A Tale for Halloween
by scousemuz1k
Summary: A strange tale, told in Abby's lab.


A Tale for Halloween

by scousemuz1k

**AN: I have to thank the other Halloween writers, especially Enthsiastic Fish, for inspiring me to do this. You have to be patient and read to the end, please, to see where NCIS comes into it. I haven't written anything in ages, and even now I'm rehashing a snippet of something. Takes place in the October after 'Slainte Mhath', which Proseac and I co-wrote in I think 2014. Ronnie McHarg is a poet, a character from that story, who wrote the poem that strongly reminded him of Abby.**

There was once a castle beside Loch Ness. Oh, not a grand one, like Castle Urquhart, but it had battlements, and a tower, as a real castle should. If you looked for it today, you'd find nothing – even the founding stones are gone, and people will tell you that it's because it was a fairy castle, and fairy stones don't stay. But they're still certain that it was there, once.

In the castle the Lady Fiander lived alone. She had been there since time forgotten, or perhaps that was her mother, or grandmother, the old folks said, because she didn't change. And that had to be by fairy powers.

Young Wullie McAlpine wanted to be a poet, and he was a wee bit smitten by the lady. This is what he said about her:-

_As the night-dark raven's w__ing_

_F__lowed the wild hair round her face,_

_Green her eyes as mountain ling,_

_Pale h__ands delicate as lace._

Indeed, most people agreed that she was one of the fairest ladies in all the land although they also said that Wullie was a bit crazed - after all, he spent long days out on the loch fishing and looking for the fabled monster...

"Och, my son's a wee bit poetical, ye might say," his father said tolerantly, "but as sane a young man as ye'd wish to meet – until he tells ye that somewhere at the bottom of the loch, there's a gateway to another world, that Nessie uses to visit us. She _– she_ of course – comes to warn us at times of dire foreboding, he says. Mind ye now, he's a good fisherman, so I dinnae complain."

Wullie never told Pa that sometimes when he was out on the loch, he'd see the Lady Fiander looking from her tower window, and when she smiled and looked in a certain direction, he knew to go and fish there. One time, when she came to the town, Wullie had plucked up the courage to thank her, and to ask her about the monster. She had given him a steady, enigmatic look.

"Wullie, the ones who swear the hardest that they have seen her, are the ones you most need to doubt," was all she'd said.

Most people were wary of going to the fairy's home, but it didn't seem to matter; if Fiander was needed, she'd appear in the town without being asked. She would bring medicines of her own making, which always did great good for those who took them, for the headache, or the toothache, the stomach ache or the windy infant.

She brought lotions and ointments that eased many an old grandparent's creaking joints, and could charm away warts and blemishes, and the old goodfolk all swore that even the touch of her hands brought healing, and she asked no recompense.

The few, (and that included young Wullie) who _had _been to her castle, told of a garden in the central courtyard, full of flowers and herbs familiar and unknown, that Fiander tended carefully and culled to make her medicines. He returned (with gripe medicine for his baby cousin) even more smitten. He added to his poem…

_Who her kin she wouldnae tell,_

_In her quiet halls under hill._

_Ancient lore she guarded well,_

_Cannily used it, did no ill._

All agreed that they were fortunate to have such a lady close by… but of course, nothing lasts forever. And another thing that we all know, but forget at the time when we most need to remember, is that we don't appreciate what we have, until we no longer have it.

There came the day when another young man from the town stopped the Lady as she was walking back to her home, and asked that she make him a love potion.

"You would give this to someone without their knowledge?"

"I want her to love me."

"In an instant? Without working for it? That's not how this world turns, Donnie Struther. The way to make someone love you is to work to earn it."

"I will give you gold!"

"And that is not the way either; not my way. Begone."

Donnie Struther returned to the town in a rage; he was rich, and not in the way of having anyone tell him nay. Nor had he the sort of character that would make a lass love him, or the wit to see it. It was all the witch's fault that Morag would not care for him, and he began a whispering campaign.

Any time the Monster was 'seen' in the loch, the witch had summoned it, for some evil purpose. When a mudslide covered half of Helen Campbell's garden, it was because the witch had done it, to stop Helen's herbs from being as good as hers. Since Helen had spent years trying to grow plants half as good, she believed Struther.

The fairy Lady knew what was being said, and went to the town less, (although she always gave what was needed to anyone who came to her) and of course, that was because she no longer cared to help.

It only took six months. When Old Douglas took his boat out one evening and didn't return, the witch had sent the monster to destroy him. It was true that the Lady Fiander had told him she could only give him so much medicine for the fiery acid pain in his gut; the amount of alcohol in that gut was the problem, but she gave him the medicine anyway.

He turned up in Drumnadrochit two days later, still well under the influence of the 'water of life', but by then it was too late.

Vainly did Wullie try to defend her…

_But the ignorant fear the wise,_

_And all they cannae understand,_

"_Witch!" and "Sorcerer" they cried,  
"Burn her castle, break her wand!"_

Nobody had ever seen her use a wand, but what did that matter? The foolish crowd raged up the road to the castle, and the blazing brands they carried soon did their work.

As she fled her burning home, the Lady paused, the loch before her, the mob behind, and looked back once, with great regret. Wullie McAlpine ran between her and the rabble, but was dragged aside by two large townsmen...

Things might have gone very ill, although the Lady Fiander did not seem afraid. As the baying crowd advanced, they gasped as the water boiled and a long, graceful neck rose up, black, silver and gold in the moonlight and torchlight. The townspeople let out a collective howl of terror and delight, and waited to see the monster kill the witch, but Nessie stretched out her long neck, for the dark princess to climb on. Fiander stepped lightly until she stood on the creature's shoulder, and it arched its neck like a fiery horse waiting leave to run.

She looked at Wullie, and pointed at his chest. "Live long, William McAlpine," she said. He felt his heart quicken, and the two men holding him let go as if they'd been burned.

She pointed to his head, "Create," and his hands, "and heal." Wullie looked at his hands, as his fingers tingled, and his hair felt as if it were waving around his head with a life of its own, as Nessie turned and the fairy Lady rode calmly away into the darkness standing straight as an arrow on the monster's back, never to be seen again. Long and vainly did the sick repent their foolishness, for there was no-one now to bring them healing…

Wullie did live long, and wrote wonderful poetry, and didn't forget the Lady Fiander, and did become a healer, but no, not in that town.

O0o0o0o

The mummy – at least up to his neck - laid the notebook down on his knee, and looked up rather bashfully. Morticia looked back at him, a bit stunned. She hadn't spoken a word as he'd read the story.

"Wow, Tony, that's the best Halloween present I've ever had!"

"We don't give presents at Halloween, Abs."

"No-o-o… but you said you had something to show me, so it's a present." Abby's logic was incontrovertible. "I never knew you could tell a tale like that!"

"Well, to be fair, I got most of the style – and you know, the snippets of poem – from Ronnie McHarg. OK, and the information too."

Abby's eyes flew wide. "Information? You mean it wasn't all made up?"

"It was the McAlpine thing," Tony said, very seriously for him. "I've kept in touch with Ronnie… See, when I showed him a photo of you, he nearly fell off his chair… he said 'That's my White Witch… that's just how I imagined her,' so I had to find out more."

"I thought it was _you _who thought she was like me," Abby said in bewilderment, "that's why you bought me his poetry book."

Tony grinned.

"It was. He agreed." He held up his fingers and made _Twilight Zone _noises. "Then, I told him that my Grandmother was a McAlpine, a relative of 'Concrete Bob' - and half the room heard him splutter. 'So am I', he said, 'my mother is a McAlpine. One of _those_ McAlpines.'"

Abby's eyes widened. "Wow… you're related to a Scottish poet who hunts the Loch Ness Monster."

"Ronnie worked it out, there are too many greats and cousins, but yes we are."

Abby put her head on one side, as Tony looked down at the notebook again. "What is it? There's more, isn't there?"

"Well… yes… we're descended from Wullie McAlpine."

"What? You mean he really existed? So did the Lady exist? And the monster?"

"Ronnie's still researching that… but he says the story's been in his family for generations. And it's true that so many of Wullie's descendants became poets, or healers, or both… wise counsellors..." he laughed, a short bark that echoed painfully through the lab. "Guess I broke the mold."

Abby shook her head, and had to push her white Morticia lock back into place. She'd known something was going on with him since they'd come back from Scotland a couple of months ago. He'd said no, fine, as usual.

"Law enforcement officers help people to heal, too," she said fiercely. "And they find themselves counselling… and how many times have you talked someone down off a bridge? Or into putting a gun down?"

"Well, yeah…"

She leaned forwards and seized his hands. "You're still doing the 'am I good enough for Gibbs' team' thing. You need to stop." She took a deep breath, and steered them both away from that theme. "So… you're a descendant of the man who saved me… if I existed."

"You've always existed Abs, who could imagine a world without you in it?"

She giggled. "I always_ knew_ there was something about us, Tony. How could you have written that story if we weren't… eternal friends?"

Tony laughed again, but this time it was genuine. "Only you could say that and have it make sense, Abby."

She stood up and threw herself at him, arms open wide; he barely had time to stand up and catch her before he was engulfed.

"Maybe you did come through a portal from another world," he whispered as they hugged.

"Next summer," she whispered back, "next summer, let's go there. Take me to Loch Ness. Introduce me to Ronnie. That castle was there, I'll find it. I'll _know_."

**AN: Read it four times, don't know if I like it… posting anyhow.**


End file.
